


Muddling Towards Something

by afteriwake



Series: The Summer Of 100 Surprise Stories - Summer 2018 [22]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Advance Check, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Alternate Universe - Writing & Publishing, Angry Molly Hooper, Broken China, Celebrations, Chinese Food, Comfort Food, Developing Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Holmes Brothers, Male-Female Friendship, Mentioned Eurus Holmes, Minor Anthea/Mycroft Holmes, Molly Has Anger Issues, Molly Is A Writer, Molly Is An Ex-Addict, Molly has a bad day, Mycroft Holmes & Molly Hooper Friendship, Mycroft Holmes Adores Molly Hooper, Mycroft is a lawyer, One-Sided Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, POV Sherlock Holmes, Personality Swap, Pre-Relationship, Sherlock Has A Crush, Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper Friendship, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes Has Low Self-Esteem, Sherlock Holmes Has a Heart, Sherlock is a teacher, Supportive Sherlock Holmes, everything changes, fancy dinner, sharing food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-20 20:38:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14901578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: Sherlock is sure he can handle sharing a flat with his childhood best friend Molly withoutfeelingsbecoming an issue. But life doesn't always work out the way he plans, he's found...and maybe that's for the best in this case.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My 1,600th fic on AO3! ::throws confetti:: So ages ago an anonymous user on Tumblr sent me a request for " _a roommate Sherlolly fic where Sherlock thinks he can totally handle that situation platonically._ " I decided to answer it today and toss in the prompt " _Character A is a writer that has a hard time making their brain shut up – so to speak – so that they can get a good night’s rest. Most nights, they fall asleep at their computer, their sentences trailing off into terrible spelling errors, which is where Character B finds them and carries them back to bed/the couch/Character A’s room/etc._ " It's kind of a swaplock in that their personalities are swapped to an extent, so I hope you enjoy!
> 
>  **EDIT:** During WIP Big Bang, I changed the name of the fic and gave the old title, **On The Road From Friends To More** , to the series I decided this would be a part of.

The sound of shattering china greeted him as he walked into the flat. Oh, Molly must have had a fight with her editor today. He vaguely remembered she had a meeting with the bastard this morning, but he’d been in a rush to get to the primary school in time for the first class he was substitute teaching for. If this went well, he’d been told, he’d replace the teacher for her actual maternity leave, which gave him a year at least of guaranteed employment.

But honestly, he’d take what he could get at this point.

There was the sound of more breaking china and he hoped she was using one of the sets they hadn’t decided would be used when they had company. Hopefully, it was the saucer she threw because if it was a cup and saucer it might be easier to replace if they decided to use it after all.

“Is it safe to come in?” he called out.

“I suppose,” Molly Hooper said in a huff. He made his way up the stairs to 221B Baker Street and saw Molly with her hair in a ponytail that was half-arsed and allowing strands to frame her face, bent over a dustpan with a broom in her hands. “You’re off already?”

“Molly, it’s nearly six. It’s time for dinner.” He held up the bag of takeaway. “What did Moriarty do now?”

Her face got red with rage as she heard the name. “He stole my bloody story!”

“What?” Sherlock asked, surprised. Molly was not generally a violent person but this? This he could understand being violent about. They sparred on a regular basis and she surpassed him at single stick. Moriarty should thank his maker that she hadn’t decided to get physical.

Molly swept the broken cup into the dustpan and then collapsed onto the floor in the fluid motion she used to sit cross-legged. Years of yoga to deal with the stress of perfectionist parents who wanted her to be a doctor, she said. Whatever the reason, she was quite flexible. “I’ve worked on this story for six bloody months and he had the gall to steal it from under my nose!”

“We can get it back. It’s not published, is it?”

“No,” she said. She chuckled slightly. “I let your brother know already.”

“Smart move. He’s in law, he can help.”

“Those were my thoughts, too.” Sherlock dropped down next to her and set the bag of takeaway between them. He knew there was plastic cutlery in the bag and they could easily eat out of the takeaway containers. Molly reached in and got her prawn spaghetti out and licked her lips. He knew her well.

Well, he knew her better than even her own family, he supposed.

Before Molly, he’d been a prat. Not a bully, but he’d been rude and an arse and it had taken her defending him and getting shoved in the mud and her pretty red dress getting ruined for the two of them to tag team the bullies into submission. After that, they were left alone and became best mates from the age of eight. Nearly fifteen years later, he still knew her best.

And she, likewise, knew him like the back of her hand, as she opened up his box of wontons and took two without asking. He’d steal a few of her prawns, she’d eventually get up and make her way to her wine, he’d say no but help her drink half the bottle and they’d talk and rant and rave over the newest episode of Ramsay’s show.

All in all, a mostly typical night.

And he liked it, to be honest. He liked having her there, even if his feelings might, possibly, be growing more complicated. He’d stuff it down and just concentrate on teaching and ignore the meddling of his happily married best mates John and Mary to have a good life.

“Wine?” Molly asked.

“No thank you,” Sherlock said. He was only polite with her but in reality, he could be just as sharp-witted as she could be soft. They seemed to have swapped personalities over the years, bouncing back and forth to extremes that evened themselves out when they were together.

“Coward!” she said, the hint of a smile on her face.

He chuckled and then went for her biggest prawn. “Fine. _One_. But I have class tomorrow. No hangovers.”

“Half the bottle, then. Got it.” She hopped up and headed towards the refrigerator. Typical night, as usual. He hoped this never changed.


	2. Chapter 2

“There’s nothing he can do, as I’m sure you’ll be pleased to know,” Mycroft said to his brother. They didn’t get on well, but at least he was on speaking terms with Mycroft as opposed to his sister. Eurus just preferred the entire Holmes family stay out of her life, but she was in uni and honestly, hadn’t he wanted the same thing? He figured it was a phase and maybe, hopefully, they’d be closer in the future. But while he and his brother talked it was usually only when Molly was the issue. Mycroft had always seemed to like her, though thankfully not in _that_ way. Admired her more than anything else, it seemed.

And he’d do whatever he could to help her out of scrapes, including The Big One That We Do Not Talk About, as she called it. She’s gotten into methamphetamine when she was in uni, trying to stay awake to cram for all the courses her parents had insisted she take, and she’d developed an addiction to pills and a few harder things. When she finally broke down in tears, weeping in Sherlock’s arms after her parents paid an unexpected visit, he called his brother and together they got her treatment, helped her through it all and made sure she had everything she needed to stay on the sober side of her addiction. It had meant her dropping out of uni one term short of finishing, but it had been what she needed.

Now, though, she had her degree, supplemented with the short stories and prose she wrote. The novel had been her most ambitious undertaking yet and he’d read it and was enthralled. For her editor to steal it had to have been heartbreaking, but he was glad his Molls had reacted with anger instead of relapsing to old comforts. He’d woken up in the morning to find her giving the flat a good airing out and he knew a spring cleaning was to follow.

The phone call had, surprisingly, come from Mycroft while he was on his lunch break. He didn’t know how Mycroft did it, but he always seemed to know the exact best time to call or pop by Baker Street for business. Big Brother is watching, indeed.

“Can she publish it, though?” Sherlock asked.

“Well, I have some pull and I went to the head of the publishing company. Turns out an alert reader on staff noticed the similarities in style with one of Molly’s short stories they’d published in an anthology and had broached it might be her work. My phone call only confirmed their suspicions. He’ll have to return his advance and she’ll be given the same deal he had, should she choose to take it. He’s going to be blacklisted as it is, which I hope will warm Molly’s blackened heart.”

“She is a loving and lovable person,” Sherlock said.

“With a temper that puts the goddess Hera to shame,” Mycroft said. “But yes, I do care about her. Would I have gone to this trouble otherwise?”

“No, ‘course not,” he said.

“Exactly. She is important to you, therefore she is important to me, and we’ll do whatever we can to help her in all ways, at all times.” Mycroft paused. “Have you still not told her how you really feel?”

“She’s got her writing,” Sherlock said with a shrug, balancing the mobile between his ear and his shoulder as he took the leftover prawn spaghetti Molly had generously given him out of the microwave. “She's so focused on that she can’t even see any potential relationship. The bastard and Tom have been trying for an age.”

“I think Moriarty has completely blown his chance now, but Tom could wear her down.”

“Well, he’d make her happy,” Sherlock said. “What can I honestly offer? I don’t have a permanent position, we barely make rent by the skin of our teeth and I’m just...the friend.”

“One day that could all change,” Mycroft pointed out.

“For her to notice me romantically? Yeah. When pigs fly.”

There was a pause on Mycroft’s end. “Another topic. Did you get Mummy’s summons?”

“I did. Will our sister grace us with her presence?”

“Not likely.”

“Then I’ll be there.” Sherlock looked around for where he’d put his fork. “Tell Mum no more blind dates though. That’s just pathetic on my part.”

“Yes, brother dear, it certainly is,” Mycroft said with a hint of amusement.

“Hanging up now. And tell Anthea she’d best come too so you’re tolerable.”

“I’ll tell my wife you said hello,” Mycroft said before hanging up.

Sherlock went to his meal, eating it while he thought. He had a love for science, which was why he was so excited about this post. It gave him the chance to teach science a few times a week, something he looked forward to. He loved that science was exact and ruled by logic and rules...much unlike his actual life at the moment. If it wasn’t one thing it was another and it almost seemed as though his life was more a comedy of errors than anything else. But still. At least Molly was by his side for a little longer. That, at least, made it tolerable.


	3. Chapter 3

“Tonight, we feast like kings! Well, a king and a queen,” Molly said as soon as he stepped foot in the flat, nearly half dragging him to his room. “Put on your finest suit, Sherlock, I got us reservations at Sketch tonight.” 

“I take it you got your advance,” he said with a grin.

“With thanks to your brother,” she replied. “Fifty thousand pounds! I mean, that’s enough to ensure rent is paid through the rest of the year, we’ll have decent food, and we can go splurge. We can watch films at the cinema for a change!”

“Don’t you already do that with Tom?” he asked.

“Yeah, well, Tom’s trying to get into my knickers. _I_ know that and _you_ know that and _he_ knows that. And I’m not honestly in the mood. You...you wouldn’t try anything. You know I wouldn’t take it well.”

“Yeah, that I do,” he said, his good mood dimming a bit. “But still, could be fun. Or a play, perhaps?”

“Some West End stuff?” she asked as they got to his room and she let go before digging through his clothes. “Sure. You cover the movies, I cover the West End. Deal?”

“Deal.” She pulled out one of the nice suits he saved for the important events, like John and Mary’s wedding had been. Molly had been the maid of honor and given a rousing speech, and he’d been one of the groomsmen and it had been a rather nice affair. Surrounded by good friends and good food, and even though John’s talent for being a trouble magnet had played it’s part when there was an attempted murder...well, there had been a story to tell, and it was their wedding that had inspired Molly’s novel. Honestly it was better, her novel, because it was a better story than “ex-soldier had accidentally gotten someone killed in war, said someone’s sister wanted revenge, tried to poison the guests,” and if that original story wasn’t scandalous enough...well, that just proved how good a writer Molly really was.

Honestly, he wondered at times where she had gotten all of the creativity he seemed to lack, the spontaneity and all that, considering for ages her parents tried to put her in the boxes of “perfect daughter,” “star student” and “aspiring doctor” until they found jamming a circular peg into such small squares just didn’t work. She didn’t speak to her family now, and honestly, Mycroft was more a brother to her than her own flesh and blood brother. If things had gone differently in life, he’d have just suggested to his mum and dad that they adopt her.

 _But then you had to fall in love with her, didn’t you?_ the nasty voice in his head pointed out. Yes. Yes, he had, and he’d suffered in silence ever since. And if today’s brief conversation since walking in the door was any indication, that would continue to be the case for the foreseeable future.

Still, he got dressed and let her drag him back out into a cab and off into London for the night. He’d eaten at posh places before; his brother would treat the family to expensive dinners from time to time in hopes of mending the fences between them all, and while admittedly it didn’t work, usually Molly was there and that made it easier. But this was their first time at a posh place with just the two of them, and it was a celebration, and if he had known where the night would lead, he might not have so readily agreed...but because he didn’t know, he went out and had The Night That Changed Everything.


End file.
